Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Tuvalu and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Little Man to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Wire. All the underground hits.
All Selector Dub Narcotic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Pierre Henry,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Durutti Column,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Max Romeo,
Ultra Naté,
Alice Coltrane,
Tomorrow,
Todd Rundgren,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lou Reed,
Sandy B,
Joe Finger,
Grauzone,
Nils Olav,
Marcia Griffiths,
Delon & Dalcan,
Alton Ellis,
Index,
Gang Green,
Kas Product,
Harry Pussy,
Bobby Byrd,
Make Up,
Crash Course in Science,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Divine Comedy,
Sound Behaviour,
Grandmaster Flash,
Barry Ungar,
Davy DMX,
Eden Ahbez,
Colin Newman,
Marc Almond,
Minor Threat,
Infiniti,
June Days,
Dual Sessions,
Shuggie Otis,
Black Flag,
In Retrospect,
Reuben Wilson,
Tears for Fears,
Zero Boys,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Dead C,
Procol Harum,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Little Man,
Urselle,
Television,
Derrick May,
Josef K,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Buckinghams,
Robert Görl,
Absolute Body Control,
UT,
Thompson Twins,
Babytalk,
Bob Dylan,
Pet Shop Boys,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.